


Hereafter

by GrieverBitMyFinger



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Boys Kissing, Canon Compliant, Canon Era, Caretaking, Caring Sebastian, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Existential Angst, Fear, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, M/M, Panic Attacks, Poor Ciel Phantomhive, SebaCiel - Freeform, Slight fluff, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:28:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25545901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrieverBitMyFinger/pseuds/GrieverBitMyFinger
Summary: He was overcome by an intolerable sensation of wrongness.Sebastian was beside him, his servants were downstairs, his remaining family a mere carriage ride away, and yet, he felt unbearably, unexplainably alone. He was never denied of his needs, both the physical and emotional ones were met with the utmost precision and devotion of his supernatural lover. But still, that uncomfortable hollowness filled his chest. His mind swirled with a thousand mind-numbing questions and twice as many bleak assumptions, each more detrimental than the last as his breaths began to flutter ever so slightly. This was not panic, nor a sliver of the anxiety that often took hold of him after his nightmares; it was pure, undiluted melancholy.
Relationships: Sebastian Michaelis/Ciel Phantomhive
Comments: 14
Kudos: 129





	Hereafter

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a vent fic and only slightly edited. Please enjoy my existential angst!
> 
> Fic songs: Would Anyone Care - Citizen Soldier, I Won't Give In - Asking Alexandria, & Jenny - Nothing More

The silence was maddening. It always was. The hour was late, the gilded clock in the center of the mantle striking thrice to announce the peak of nightfall. The fire had long since died, merely lying as a pile of ash upon the logs in which a fire had previously danced, but that didn't matter much at the moment. There was still heat to warm the chilled earl, emitted from the demon pressed flush against his back.

This was a common occurrence. His ever-loyal butler had shared his bed with him every night for almost a year now, holding him close whether he was nude and panting beneath him or peacefully slumbering against his chest. The feeling of Sebastian's arms ensconcing him, strangely warm considering the icy darkness at his core, usually brought Ciel unrivalled solace, soothing him after nightmares and easing him back into an easy sleep with little effort exuded. Tonight, however, was no such night. He had not been awakened by old memories of cold bars against his bruised and bloodied cheeks, nor by the sight and stench of his brother's mangled, lifeless body, or the scent of fire and burning flesh. He had not been roused from unconsciousness at all, for that matter.

For four hours now, he had laid awake.

He suspected Sebastian was unaware of his wakefulness, his command that the devil sleep alongside him until morning allowing him silence as he unwillingly delved into the thoughts that had plagued him endlessly for just over a week. Heavy, suffocating, agonising. The feeling they brought to surface was gnawing; it ate at him with razor claws and thousands of fangs--ripping, tearing, squeezing--as if it were trying to crush his heart in the palm of bony, monstrous hands. His imagination could easily conjure such emotions as needles prying into his skin, unstitching every scar he'd ever sustained and letting him bleed out into the pristine sheets beneath him. But luckily, for both his nightshirt and his bedding, it was only that: an image painted by his desolation.

He was overcome by an intolerable sensation of wrongness.

Sebastian was beside him, his servants were downstairs, his remaining family a mere carriage ride away, and yet, he felt unbearably, unexplainably alone. He was never denied of his needs, both the physical and emotional ones were met with the utmost precision and devotion of his supernatural lover. But still, that uncomfortable hollowness filled his chest. His mind swirled with a thousand mind-numbing questions and twice as many bleak assumptions, each more detrimental than the last as his breaths began to flutter ever so slightly. This was not panic, nor a sliver of the anxiety that often took hold of him after his nightmares; it was pure, undiluted melancholy. It was a strong sense of both hopelessness and helplessness, accompanied by traces of anger directed at himself for allowing such internal manifestations to affect him, as well as at others--perhaps foolishly so--for not seeing the struggles he kept buried deep within his core.

Six years. It has been six years since the formation of the contract, and he had yet to get any closer to fulfilling his ultimate goal. Sebastian was growing more hungry by the day, and the earl himself was growing more weary. His body felt as worn-through as his spirit, his fatigue revealed through his gradually slumping posture each evening when he sat behind his desk. He was exhausted, but sleep was more reluctant to take him than ever before.

In the shadows and hush, he pondered. What would his parents think of him now, if they saw what he'd become? Would they weep for the innocence stolen from their youngest child, despise him for what'd he'd done? Or simply wish that he had been more like his brother, both in life and death? The stronger, happier twin; the perfect, healthy heir. The one who had protected him until his last breath, just as he should have done himself. The eldest was their favourite from the moment he took his first gasp of air, but Ciel did not begrudge them for it. His twin was the important one, the knowledge that he was only a spare was ingrained deep within him from such an early age, he found it hard to shake after over a decade.

That brought about the question of what his twin would think, if he would regret shoving him aside when the masked men reached out for their ideal sacrifice. Would he hate him for seeking revenge, for contracting a demon to survive, for eagerly allowing his future demise to bed him every night. Where Sebastian was concerned, he cared not for thoughts of what his predecessors would think. Odd as it seemed, his butler was the only source of comfort, amusement, and hope he had left. For as surely as he loved the thought of closing his eyes one final time to the sight of that moonlit face, he also relied on the promise that he would wake to that sly smile every morning. A beacon of light, ironic considering the obsidian aura the demon exuded.

In reality, he suspected that his guess at his family's reaction would have been nearer to that of Lady Elizabeth. The disappointment in her eyes every time she failed to make him smile, the tears she shed when he turned away from her in favor of solitude. They had once been friends, oh-so long ago, but still, he pictured her face if she were to find out the truth of his identity. He was unimportant, he always was. The only merit his presence carried now was through a golden gilded lie, and even that was waning day by day. If he were to vanish from existence, far before the completion of the contract, her care could quickly fade, as would what little fondness the remaining Midfords possessed.

He sometimes found the thought hard to force from his head, especially when he considered it a positive. He would not be missed, he would barely be mourned. If he were to go, no one would be hurt in the process. The servants, while rambunctious, were properly trained now, they could easily find a new household who would take them in. With his absence, Elizabeth would become betrothed to another, one who could love and care for her as a fiancé should. And with the contract fulfilled, Sebastian would no longer be bound to him. He would devour his soul and find a new master, perhaps even a new lover. One less frail and dependent on his care. And by each and every one of them, he would be forgotten in a month's time.

It stung terribly. But it was a gut-feeling he was unable to shake. It was the truth, he knew that deep down. Yet, he pretended for their sake. He would lie and try to believe that their affection was genuine. However, with every beam from the servants, letter from Midfords, and kiss from Sebastian, he felt his walls crumbling, inch by miniscule inch. Was he to truly believe that he was not a burden to each and every person who surrounded him? The lives of his family and servants would always be in grave danger so long as he breathed, and until the day he faded away, Sebastian would be shackled to him. A caged predator, tethered to a mere lamb. He had said so himself that this was the longest contract that he had ever upheld, and despite the smile on his lips as he spoke such words, Ciel knew he must be growing tired of his constant presence. Especially considering that he could have easily enacted the heir's revenge within seconds of their first meeting, without tolerating years of fruitless servitude and being forced to mutter words of sweet, yet faux, affection. Their nights spent together, while held in high regard by the earl himself, likely meant nothing to Sebastian.

The man had thousands of masters and mistresses before him, and possibly twice as many lovers. He was just one of many, and the mutual fondness declared by his butler would eventually prove to be as false as his own identity. He could only imagine that if his lover were to find him cold, breathless, and stained in scarlet come morning, his pallid form would receive a mere scowl of disapproval before the remains of his soul were hastily siphoned from his icy lips, and his empty body was left alone for the servants to find when the sun rose. Perhaps, they would weep for him, curse him for leaving them behind without a letter to aid them in garnering new employment. Or maybe, they wouldn't care at all. But no matter the reaction, the outcome would ultimately be the same. He would be seen as weak, a failure, or perhaps his story would be met with utter disbelief--for nothing so simple as a loss of self could provoke the death of the feared watchdog. But at the very least, rumors, guilt, and blame aside, he would find reprieve, and free the ones he cared for in the process.

In his inner-torment, Ciel did not realize that he had begun to tremble, willowy form quaking violently within the arms that shrouded him. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes, staining florid cheeks with wet trails as a quiet weep spilled from his lips. His chest heaved, his body curled in on itself, and warm hands seized him the second he began to sob into the feather pillow upon which he rested his head. They turned him over with ease, revealing swollen eyes and chattering teeth to the creature looming over him with obvious concern.

"Goodness, what a state you are in, young master," Sebastian breathed, trailing sable-tipped fingers through matted locks of slate. "What is troubling you at such a late hour?" His hands cupped the boy's cheeks with such delicate reverence, scrutinizing his lover's glossy eyes and creased brows. These were not tears caused by an injury or illness, but rather a ravenous ache that ran soul-deep. To say the devil was stunned would be an understatement. His master had appeared relatively unbothered all day. The boy was quiet, perhaps more so than usual, and agitated throughout the evening, but the butler had easily brushed it aside as fatigue from a fitful sleep the night prior; he had tossed and turned quite a bit, after all. But now, seeing him wither in a way so unlike his proud little lord, it was clear that he had been harbouring such pain for awhile now. How it had slipped under his careful watch for so long, he was unsure, but he would try his hardest to ease the suffering weighing down the young nobleman.

His question received no answer, unsurprising when taking into account that Ciel's mournful weeps had strengthened considerably as Sebastian guided his head to his shoulder. He was hyperventilating, all but choking on his tears as his small fingers reached out to desperately cling to the soft fabric of his butler's button-up. It quickly became heavily saturated by tears and the occasional drop of spittle from the boy's open mouthed cries. Each sharp inhale was quickly followed by a pitiful whine, as if every breath was daggers to his chest, despite the fact that his asthma was not acting up. Perhaps, it wasn't his lungs that caused him such pain, but rather, his heart.

With a quiet coo, Sebastian protectively held the slyphlike body flush against his own form, warm hand splaying along his young master’s back in a consoling fashion. He worked his long fingers into the tense muscles residing beneath his palm, kneading gingerly as a soft, calming growl began to reverberate from his chest. He could feel traces of panic beginning to well up with every unsteady breath the earl managed, mismatched eyes shooting open fearfully when it grew more difficult to draw in air. “It’s alright, young master, just close your eyes," the demon soothed, lips finding purchase upon the boy's delicate crown. Tenderly seizing a gracile palm in his own, he pressed Ciel's hand to his chest, inhaling slowly as he did so. "Focus on me--my voice, my touch, anything at all. Try to match your breaths to mine." The butler waited for his words to sink in, his everlasting-patience unwavering when at first he received a stilted shake of the head.

"Can't… Can't breathe."

"I know that, but you must try to follow my instructions so that it will abate more quickly, alright? No harm will befall you--you know I will not allow that to happen."

His words seemed to get through to his struggling lover, who made a quiet, wounded sound in the back of his throat, but complied to the best of his abilities. Every exhale was quick, yet heavy, the hoarse, shuddering pants filling the silence as the butler helped his master work through the effects of the worst night he had suffered in years. It was a laborious process, but gradually, Ciel's breaths became more steady, evening out into a pattern nearly capable of matching the devil's own. Though his stomach still undulated uncontrollably with each full-bodied sob that parted his coral lips, and tears continued to fall unbidden from his pink, swollen eyes, Sebastian praised him for his success in quelling his panic-induced hyperventilation whilst kneading into the tense muscles aligning the notches of the boy’s spine. "Very good… Keep your breaths as steady as you can manage."

Sebastian thought to question the earl once more, to pry the barest amount to reveal the cause of Ciel’s sudden breakdown. He was not asleep prior to the fall of the first droplet from his eyes, that much the demon knew. He had been tossing and turning for hours, slender form rife with anxiety that even his increasingly tightening hold failed to ease. He had been mere seconds from asking Ciel himself before he began to weep, and had yet to find reason for his sudden, profound hurt. However, the butler remained silent for several minutes longer, allowing his lover to calm more sufficiently before pressing him for answers. "I find your state of mind... strange, my darling. What has caused such a disturbance tonight?" He asked, tone uncharacteristically soft and void of amusement. His fingers curled into the gossamer locks at Ciel's nape, lavender-scented from his bath earlier in the evening, and combed through them in a consoling fashion as warm breath fanned along his shoulder with the earl's heavy sigh.

“A demon wouldn’t understand," Ciel replied simply, burrowing deeper into the familiar chest he faced with defeat all but seeping from his crumpled form. His cheeks remained damp, as ashamed by his outburst as he was by his inability to ignore such bleak thoughts, but the hiccups wracking his body were gradually starting to wane as he fell quiet.

In their years together, Sebastian had seen him in such a state only a handful of times, most occurring during the early days of their contract, before his restraint had strengthened with his newfound power and resolve. In those moments, he had despised himself for showing such weakness to his ultimate demise. The demon would find any fault in his defenses as laughable and pathetic, further proving his point that humans were nothing if not frail and helpless, least of all one without the physical prowess to make up for his rare, yet no less loathsome, slip ups in strength. Anger was often his most effective guise to make up for his lack of control over such rampant emotions, easily distracting both himself and his butler from the problem at hand the instant he demanded the completion of one ridiculous task or another, but he found the energy for that sort of display bereft on this night. It was so very late, and he was exhausted.

His head pounded from the sheer force of his previous cries, and his chest was weighed down by the sense of such harrowing hollowness, making every movement of his svelte form feel sluggish and leaden. He wanted nothing more than to find reprieve in the slumber that refused to take him, to fall silent and awaken with his barriers back in place, and this night living on as a mere memory. But to his displeasure, Sebastian refused to let him hide himself away until dawn, his diminutive frame coming back into view when his dove-feather sheets were tugged from where they'd risen just beneath his delicately arched nose.

"We understand far more than you may realize, beloved," Sebastian chided softly, placing a small peck betwixt the boy's furrowed brows. The words Ciel spoke were ones he had heard many times before, and while it was true in the early days of their contract, he was far more confident in his ability to read and recognize his master's feelings and needs now. He suspected that rather than an inability to understand, this truly came down to the stubborn nobleman's refusal to own up to his own despondency. Or perhaps, he was simply afraid of being looked down upon for the cause of his pain, despite all he had done over the years to prove his resilience in times of stress. "These tears do not make you weak. You know that, yes?"

The demon received only a hushed sniffle in response at first, a conflicted frown crossing Ciel's features as he glared defiantly at the sheets beneath him. "Then what do they make me?" He asked, voice level and yet rough with the aftermath of his distraught cries. His red-rimmed eyes raised to Sebastian's own, searching madly for the truth that only his butler dared to speak.

"Human," Sebastian supplied quietly, the thick emotion behind the word unreadable to the mortal he held. It could have been spoken in disappointment, sadness, or perhaps it was nothing more than a blatant fact. But there was no way for the younger male to know. Sebastian, at times, remained a mystery to him, even when his facadé of the polite and reserved butler was dropped the second he began to undress him for his bath. The devil did not often hide his desires, nor his thoughts, allowing every ounce of lechery and mystery to seep from his words when they were alone. Indeed, he even declared words of fondness when they were undisturbed by the company of others. But when he was deep in thought or wished for his intentions to go unknown, it was impossible to see past his neutral baritone.

Ciel gave a dry laugh at the obvious answer despite the meaning residing behind it, allowing his head to drop back into the soft pillows as his dark lashes kissed his cheeks with the delicate shudders of a butterfly's wings. He gave a wry smile despite the poor state he was in, amusement not quite reaching his tone when he spoke. "I suppose you are not wrong. However, last I remember, you view humans as weak. Your clever wording does not permit you to lie in saying that you do not see me as weak, it remains a breach of contract." Swallowing thickly, he retreated into his mind in the most subtle way possible, falling silent as the ginger strokes along his back faltered with his worn-through words. "Just forget about all of this and go back to sleep."

Hearing the boy's hostile words as a poor attempt to redirect his attention, Sebastian merely sighed and nuzzled into his lover's silken locks. "Young master, you misunderstand me… You are human, yes, but I did not mean that in a bad way. It's true that I believe the fragile strength of many mortals is lacklustre, perhaps even pathetic." He hesitated for a breath of a second, fond smile forming as he considered his next words carefully. “However, I know for a fact that you are the strongest mortal I have come across, and I have explored the mortal realm since its creation.” Coiling his lover closer when a chill coursed along the expanse of the boy’s back, he continued. “What I meant is that it is natural for a human to cry in times of stress, not something that defines strength. It is ingrained in you from the time you are born, to let others know and aid you in times of distress. That is especially true for you, my lord. For you possess such resilience through all of your hardships, and trudge through it all on your own, without ever asking for help. Your tears are the only way that I know you are struggling...”

At Sebastian’s words, Ciel’s eyes welled up anew, heart panging painfully at the concern embedded in every word his lover spoke. Sebastian would not speak so highly of him if he knew the truth. “You say that, and yet, you would think me a fool should you hear my reasoning,” he muttered, tears silently overflowing even as he harshly rubbed at his eyes in an attempt to keep them at bay. His nose settled against Sebastian’s neck when he shifted, the faux pulse thudding rhythmically against his strawberry lips enough to lull him and noticeably slow the flow of droplets dampening his face like rain on a window pane.

“I would never think you a fool for something that causes you such pain. My darling, please let me help you," Sebastian pleaded, contract mark flaring vibrant heliotrope in response to his master's pain.

With a deep exhale, Ciel finally relented, giving a frustrated nod. It seemed Sebastian would not be giving in tonight. But… Perhaps that was okay. The ache of carrying this burden alone was overwhelming, and he was so very tired. “Very well,” he rasped, chewing on his lip anxiously. “I want all of this to be over. It has been _six years_ , Sebastian, and I am no closer to my revenge than I was the second you pulled me from the cage. Perhaps that is my fault for stopping you from doing it yourself, for wanting to see it through to the very end, and be the one to watch them grovel at my feet for a mercy they will never be granted… But while I still crave that, to see them pay for what they have done to me, I have grown tired of waiting. Besides that, it would be best for everyone if I were to go. Myself included."

“My lord, you are still so very young, and as you say, your revenge remains unfulfilled. Why do you wish for it to be over so soon? If it's something that I have done to make you feel this way, please tell me so that I may right what I have done wrong,” Sebastian said softly, bristling uncomfortably at the grim implications of his lover's words. How had he not noticed this sooner? These issues were clearly not formed in the expanse of a single evening, nor even a couple of days, this had been silently mounting for weeks, if not months. How long had his charge been trapped in this state of despair, too prideful to admit to his need for reassurance?

With a quick shake of the head, Ciel reached out to card his fingers through Sebastian’s raven tresses, finding comfort in the sleek darkness slipping betwixt his thin digits. "You have done nothing," he assured, idly fingering the buttons upon the partially open shirt Sebastian donned. "It's just that… I find that there is nothing left for me here. It is one thing to be fueled by rage, but after so long, even that is not enough to make this existence worthwhile. No one will care when I die, and once you have my soul, the contract will be over, and I will perish alongside it. But that time isn't coming soon enough. I'm tired, Sebastian, always so bloody tired." A tense moment passed before he spoke again, his voice but a whisper within the ocean he drowned in, "If I were to give up before my revenge is completed, my soul would be forfeit… You are starving, Sebastian. Surely, you wouldn't mind having supper early."

To say the Ciel's words left Sebastian dumbfounded would be an understatement. He was not confused by his master's reasoning; after all, it was true that wrath could only fuel a mortal's desire to live for a short while before beginning to wear thin. However, he was taken off-guard by the earl's admittedly-worrying thoughts. He felt uncared for, alone, and the demon was not entirely sure how to assure him otherwise. "I fully assure you, darling, I see your struggle. But please... trust me when I tell you that others will miss you terribly if you leave. I can never lie to you, after all. The servants, Prince Soma... they would be devastated. Even I have become fond, perhaps more than I should have, and the day I lose you will be dreadful. But that day is not today. I would be damned if I let you leave my side so early." Pausing to stroke the rigid set of Ciel's jaw, Sebastian used a thread of shadow to manifest a pristine handkerchief. With the ginger touch of a lover rather than a butler, he wiped away the wetness staining his lover's pinkened cheeks and nose, setting it aside once he deemed the mortal's face sufficiently clean. "Beloved, how can I show you that I am here for you?"

With tired eyes half-mast and sweet lips chewed raw, Ciel leaned into the palm on his cheek. His heart still ached with the weight of his desolation, anxiety clinging stubbornly to the hidden corners of his mind, but every stroke of his demon's fingers seemed to quell it, if only by a small fraction. He no longer wept, and his quivering had subsided, leaving him solemn and withdrawn as his panic passed. He found it hard, perhaps impossible, to believe that his departure would cause any sorrow in those surrounding him, but his mind was eased by Sebastian's claims all the same. For in the end, Sebastian could not lie, and therefore, _his_ affections, at the very least, were genuine. And at the moment, that was more than enough to convince him that he was not alone. Despite his wicked ways and often infuriating methods of showing his infatuation, Sebastian cared for him, even if no one else truly did. That was why it was with little concern over appearing weak that Ciel closed his eyes and loosened his constricting grip on his butler's waist, placing an apologetic kiss upon the base of his lover's throat. "Continue to hold me this way, just for tonight..."

"I had planned to do that regardless, my lord," Sebastian crooned, leaning down to press his lips to the smaller pair that parted in such a welcoming fashion. Unlike the feverish kisses they shared when lost in the throes of passion, this one was light, lingering, healing. They shifted in perfect tandem, never opening to explore deeper as they had the night prior. Tongues did not roam, nor did teeth clash, but every ounce of unspoken love saturated that single, everlasting embrace.

With great reluctance, they parted, and Sebastian calmly reached out to undo the first three buttons of Ciel's nightshirt, retrieving a small, glass vial from the nearby nightstand soon after. Upon catching his master's confused expression, the butler allowed several large droplets of the clear essence to drip down his fingers, dragging them across the boy's thin chest once they were sufficiently coated in the cool, earthy liquid. His onyx-tipped digits left slick trails in their wake as he massaged the aromatic oil into the delicate skin he stroked, feeling the taut muscles beneath relax at last. "It is only chamomile oil. It will help you sleep," he assured, smoothing the soporific essence all the way up to the base of his lover's throat as the earl hummed his understanding. The faintly sweet aroma clouded the air, as well as the aristocrat's overwrought senses, its effects almost instantaneous when combined with the late hour and the pleasant warmth Sebastian exuded. The demon could see the boy's bicolour eyes beginning to hesitantly flutter shut as the tranquilizing sensations ensconced him, his stiff form relaxing for the first time since his tears had begun. He would be sure to clear his master's schedule in the morning to allow him time to recuperate from such a long and grueling night.

When Ciel's heartbeat steadied into a rhythm matching his own, and his breaths grew heavy with the slumber that had finally taken him, Sebastian heaved a heavy sigh, and curled around his lover in a show of fierce protectiveness. "A human life passes at the bat of an eye for someone like me, but I treasure every moment here with you." A quiet snuffle followed his words, almost as if his master had heard him despite being unconscious, and his lips spread into a faint smile at the sound. Placing a final kiss upon Ciel's brow, Sebastian shut his eyes against the pale moonbeams shattering the blackness of the room, his dulcet baritone deep and solemn as he lamented to the spiraling darkness shrouding his sleeping lover. "I only hope that I can make you realize the pleasures this life can bring you before it is too late... After all, life is short, my dear."

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi, harass me over torturing Ciel again, or request things!  
> Tumblr: griever-bit-my-finger


End file.
